


Winter's Siren

by CyelaBird



Category: Captain America (Movies), James "Bucky" Barnes - Fandom, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Bucky Barnes Feels, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Eventual Smut, F/M, Marvel Universe, POV Bucky Barnes, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Steve Rogers, Romance, Sexual Content, Short
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 15:23:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4710848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyelaBird/pseuds/CyelaBird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky is in pain, suffering from PTSD and trying to become apart of the world that he once tried to avoid. Steve is out on assignment for a week, leaving him to care for himself. He goes for a run around the neighborhood and hears what could be the most beautiful singing he's ever heard coming from one of the houses. Instantly, curiosity get's the best of him and he becomes obsessed with her song, her voice and eventually her in general. (Warning: This short story contains sexual references, smut and strong language.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter's Siren

“Steve…”

“…And if you want to pause you press the button with two lines on it...”

“Steve, I…”

“…if you happen to get hungry and nothing in the fridge looks good just grab the phone and…”

“STEVE!”

                Finally he shut his mouth long enough to hear me out. He had been at it for hours, trying to explain the basics of the apartment while he leaves on assignment for a week. His nerves were shot with anxiety at the thought that someone may find out where I was staying or that I’ll burn the complex down. So, he took it upon himself to lecture me about microwaves and remotes or how to use a cell phone.

                He put the remote on the coffee table and looked up at me with a tentative expression. I sighed and rubbed my temples.

“Buck, I just want to make sure that you’re comfortable.”

“I get it.  I do, and I appreciate it but all I really want right now is silence.  No technology, no cell phones or cars…just silence.”

                Steve stared at the ground a bit before giving me a warm smile and patting my shoulder.

 

 I helped fasten his duffle bag to his Harley and before he left he explained more important things like how to turn on the shower.

“Alright, Buck. Here’s the keys. Don’t get into too much trouble, okay stupid?

“Got it, punk.” I punched his shoulder and he revved his motor then took off into the sunset.

 

                When I could no longer see him in the distance, I darted back into the complex and into the apartment. I locked the door, checked it twice, drew every blind and locked each window. There was no way in hell that people were going to find out I was here. It was about 6:40 PM and I found myself digging through a pile of Steve’s records. All were familiar but one struck a chord. I slid the vinyl record onto the player and waited until a soft, classical tune danced through my ears. It was like drinking with the boys again. “The Howling Commandos.” The memory sent a shiver of nostalgia down my spine and made a smile play on my lips.

                As I lay on the couch, I allowed the record to play over and over again while I closed my eyes and hoped for more flashbacks. I remembered most things, like growing up with Steve and everything pertaining to World War II. However, there were days when I would remember something that I had forgotten. They were small, like remembering Steve’s favorite color in grade school, but they were nonetheless important to me. Sadly, nothing came to me as the record repeat itself for the twelfth time.

                The music began to get increasingly annoying and I jumped up to put the record back. Then, a wave of Déjà vu hit me and I succumbed to a flashback of the day following Steve’s mother’s death.

                I had just took a record out of the player and slid it back into its paper casing. Steve was on the couch with knees to his chest and red-rimmed eyes. He had asked me to turn the music off because it reminded him of Sarah. I sat next to him and patted his knee. His blue eyes looked up at me and nearly made me tear up at the sight of such pain that was held within them. I loved her too. So we both sat on the couch and grieved the way we always did things…together.

                The flashback left me shaking. Sometimes the more important ones do. However, I’ve been through this a hundred times so I shook the memory away and walked into the kitchen. I grabbed a glass of water and peered out the window. It was dark out and night was falling quickly. _Perfect time to go running._ I recalled Steve’s request as he lectured me of the do’s and don’ts, “ _Try not to go out at night. If you’re going anywhere do it in the morning where more people are out and about so you’re less likely to be singled out.”_ I groaned and shut the curtain. Forgetting the force of my own damned metal arm, the curtain actually ripped off the bar and fell into the kitchen sink.

“Fuck.”

                Since the curtain was ripped, I tried to tape a piece of cardboard to the window. It wouldn’t stay up and eventually I found my metal arm going through the window in annoyance.

“FUCK!”

                Someone probably heard the glass shatter and instantly I panicked. Grabbing a pillow from the couch, I leaned it against the window pane and balanced it to cover what was left of the window. _I need to go run. I need to go run._ I was pretty sure nothing was going to happen especially if I was simply running. _People shouldn’t bother me, right?_ I pulled a jacket over my tank top, pulled up a pair of sweats and slid on a glove over my metal hand.  Then, I grabbed the keys on the kitchen counter and left the apartment before any nosey neighbors tried to see what all the noise was about. _You’re living with an ex-assassin with a cybernetic arm strong enough to rip your throat in half with one squeeze, that’s what._

                Chuckling to myself, I started making sadistic scenarios to myself which was far from what I normally did. But, honestly, how funny would it be if I just flashed one of the neighbors my metal appendage? Their face would be priceless. For once, I looked down at my arm in pride rather than my usual scowl. Then I remembered the window.

“Piece of shit arm.”

                I began to pace myself in a large neighborhood across the street of the apartment complex. I really wanted to run in front of the Lincoln memorial but I felt that staying closer to home would be smarter. It was an extensive lot of houses, so I had enough space to run a full 10 miles and then some. It was quiet, dark and chilly out which put my mind at ease. Cold gusts of wind hit my face and I could feel my metal arm getting colder and colder by the minute. The temperature of my good-for-nothing-arm started to lower the temperature of my body and I found myself stopping for breath quite often. _I can’t be out here much longer._

                I steadied my pace and started to make my way back to the complex. As soon as I crossed the street and made my way to the other sidewalk, I could hear a barely audible voice. I stopped and listened for which direction it was coming from. Luckily, it was farther down the neighborhood so I started to run back home until I heard it again. I stopped and listened harder, hoping that it wasn’t actually coming towards me. Curiosity bit at my ankles and my feet began to drag me towards the voice. As I stepped closer to where it was coming from, I realized it was not just a voice but a song. Someone was singing…beautifully.

                The curiosity turned into desire and I felt a need to figure out who or what was singing. Finally, I stumbled across the house where I could distinctively hear a woman’s voice echoing from the walls.  I held my breath and crept closer until I was standing in her front yard. Her voice enraptured me. I couldn’t pry my ears from her soothing voice. It was the most profound feeling of captivation that I’ve ever felt. In my head, I envisioned an older woman in her 50’s or so. The voice was seasoned, not that of someone young like me. _Or physically young, given I’m technically an old man._

“ _If my red eyes, don’t see you anymore…”_ Her alluring voice spewed from the house and erupted a sense of bliss in my soul. There was brilliance in every tune.

“ _Just send your heartbeat, I’ll go…”_ Closing my eyes, I let her song lure me into a reverie. Somehow, it soothed the fire that I’ve tried so hard to extinguish. Yet, here I am. A burning assassin whose been doused by a single melody.  Suddenly a chill ran up my spine and reality hit me. My teeth were chattering and my skin was crawling with goosebumps. I put my flesh hand against the sleeve of my metal arm and realized it was nearly frozen. _Shit, I need to get home NOW._

                I dashed through the neighborhood and began to violently cough along the way. By the time I reached the complex, my hands were so frozen that I could barely open up the door. I burst through the apartment and was relieved by the heat that greeted me. I rushed over to the radiator and stuck my metal arm right on top of it. _The faster this damn thing gets hot, I will too._ As I waited for my body temperature to stabilize, my mind drifted back to the beautiful voice.

 _How is it possible for a woman to possess such a perfect voice? There were tons of great singers in Brooklyn, this isn’t the first time I’ve heard good singing._ I recalled the many women that I’ve been with in my prime. _I’m technically still in my prime._ I smirked and tried to search my mind for the name of one of the girls whose voice I’ll never forget. _Ah, lil ole’ Suzy._

Suzy Robinson was an absolute heartbreaker. I remember her shiny brunette curls and her bright red lips. She was a beauty to all the men in Brooklyn and I was lucky enough to call her my girl for a brief moment in time. Of course, looks are deceiving. Under her gorgeous face and beautiful body she was a bitch. _But, man, that girl could sing._ She used to get up on the tables at the old diners and belt her little heart out. I suppose she got more tips than the waitresses.

                Suzy could sing, but this woman whom I’ve yet to meet has something different. Suzy’s voice had power and excellence. This woman has that and a brilliance that could touch your soul. This is a voice that I couldn’t tire of, a voice that is as soft as angles and mighty as the seas.

“One of a kind.”

                I shook my head in utter disbelief over what was getting me all worked up. Still, I planned on running at the same time tomorrow in hopes I can hear her again. This time, with warmer clothes.


End file.
